Freddie looked around. Once he spotted the Benz, he flashed a smile and held up his hand. Cynthia flicked the big beams to confirm what he had already known. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she didn’t belong in the area. It wasn’t until Freddie had reached her truck that Cynthia unlocked the doors. Freddie laughed on the inside as he climbed in.
“Hey, beautiful,” Freddie semi slurred. He could tell by her grimace that she both smelled the liquor on his breath and knew he was intoxicated. But he didn’t care. After all, he was in charge, he believed. “Pull off,” he instructed.
“Where to?” she asked with hesitancy.
“Wherever.” He leaned over and grabbed her inner thigh firmly.
His hand sent a thousand volts through Cynthia’s body. She was instantly turned on. She started to head straight to where he had first managed to get her open in under twenty-four hours, but decided on another destination.
He inhaled the scent of her cucumber-infused perfume. A tipsy Freddie smiled at nothing in particular. Cynthia noticed. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, what’s your deal?” she added.
Freddie chuckled. “What do mean what’s my deal?”
“You’re drunk, apparently,” she pointed out. “Are sure you don’t want to get together another time?” she asked, even though that’s not what she really wanted. She realized although Freddie did something to her body, she knew nothing about him. The last thing she wanted was to wind up dealing with a replica of her alcoholic husband. Her thought was ended by the sound of Freddie’s voice. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Turn around and take me back to where you picked me up at,” he repeated. Her words had sobered Freddie up just enough to put her in her place.
“Why? What’s wrong?” She was confused.
“Because it’s apparent this ain’t what you want!” he boomed. “I don’t have time for these games you wanna play. It’s either you want this dick or you don’t.” His words sounded like something straight out of a pimp guide. “Maybe another time, another place,” he then said instead.
“Noooo! Please, baby,” Cynthia pleaded. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was only concerned,” she lied. “I do want you. I wish I could have you inside of me every night,” she confessed.
The four double shots of 1738 he had thrown back had him feeling a little more than nice. “I’m cookin’,” he said to himself, shaking his head.
Cynthia pulled into the driveway of her and her husband’s five-bedroom, two car–garage home. She hit the garage switch over her visor and drove in. Her husband was out of town on business and she knew her bed would be perfect for her young boy toy.
Freddie had sobered a little bit in the car, but he was still far gone. She led him inside and up the stairs to the master bedroom and got him undressed. She then removed her clothes.
“I’m about to get in the shower. You joining me right?” she asked seductively.
“That’s what you want?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Cynthia replied, slipping out of her Victoria’s Secret thong.
A broad smile appeared across Freddie’s face. He watched as her petite waist, protruding hips, and voluptuous bottom all swayed rhythmically together as she made her way to the bathroom.
“You comin’ or what?” she looked back and asked.
“Make me come,” Freddie teased.
“Follow me and I will!” she shot back, devilishly.
Cynthia was already lathering her body with the body wash by the time Freddie made his way into the see-through walk-in shower. He stepped inside and slid behind her.
“Here, let me help,” he said in a smooth baritone voice, taking the scrub sponge out of her hands.
He began to run the sponge in a circular motion on her back. Cynthia grabbed a handful of her blond hair and moved it out of the way. With his free hand, Freddie reached in front of her and cupped her left breast. While his right hand trailed down her back with the sponge, his left hand massaged upward until it found Cynthia’s erect nipple. Cynthia head rotated from side to side from his touch. By now, Freddie’s hand had made its way in between Cynthia’s ass cheeks. He slid the sponge up and down her crack then placed the sponge up under the water to rinse it off. He then spun Cynthia around and lathered the sponge again. Water cascaded down her breast, onto her midsection, and then finally disappeared between her inner thighs. Freddie leaned in and planted a kiss behind her ear, then on the side of her neck, followed by her collarbone. His kisses turned into his tongue trailing from her blade to her breast until he reached her nipple. Freddie took her nipple into his mouth and gently bit into it. This move caused Cynthia to purr like a kitten. She placed her hands on top of Freddie’s head, lightly pushing him off her. At that moment, she wanted him to bite her somewhere else. Freddie released her nipple and began bathing the front part of Cynthia’s body. He made Ss over her breasts until he reached between her legs. By now, Cynthia was on fire and there was only one hose that could put it out. She reached for Freddie’s dick, but he pulled back.
“I’m not done yet,” he whispered just enough for her to hear. He knew how turned on Cynthia got whenever he took control. He parted her legs with the sponge and began to massage Cynthia’s clit with it. She moaned and ground her hips while belly dancing to the rhythm of Freddie’s touch. The sponge was sending an electrifying sensation throughout her body, making her yearn for the real thing. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Freddie removed the sponge and rinsed it out for a second time. He placed Cynthia under the water while he aided it in clearing her body of the soap residue. Convinced the suds were washed away, all in one motion, Freddie spun Cynthia back around until she faced the shower’s wall.
“This what’chu been waitin’ for?” He pressed his weight up against her and whispered in her ear.
“Yes, give it to me, daddy! Fuck me!” Cynthia exclaimed.
Her words were what Freddie needed to amp him up. His dick stood at attention immediately. Freddie pushed Cynthia up against the wall and bent her over. “Umph,” she let out as she grabbed hold of the soap shelf. Freddie had wasted no time sliding his rock hard inside her aggressively.
“Yeah, take this pussy,” Cynthia looked back and said.
“Shut up,” Freddie shot back with a strong thrust and smack on Cynthia’s ass.
The combination of water, flesh, and grunts could be heard as Freddie delivered long, hard pumps into Cynthia’s sex box. “You like this dick?” Freddie called out in between pumps.
“No, I love this dick!” Cynthia corrected him. “Don’t stop, don’t ever stop! Fuck me harder, daddy!” she chimed.
Freddie grabbed a fistful of her hair for balance and granted her wish.
“Ooh, shit! Yes! Yes! Yeeesss!” Cynthia screamed as she felt herself cumming. She started throwing her ass back at Freddie who was riding her like she was a bronco and he was a professional cowboy. He had now clamped his hands around her waist.
“Come for mama, daddy! Make that big dick cum for me,” she cheered him on. Freddie could feel himself building up. His pumps became rabbit-like. Just as he was about to reach his peak, Cynthia announced, “Oh, daddy, I’m about to cum again. Cum with me!” And then, as if on cue, Freddie’s sexual volcano erupted to match Cynthia’s own explosion. His body tensed up and his legs buckled but he held firm.
“Fuck!” he yelled out as he pulled out of Cynthia. Before he could get a chance to release his juices down the drain, Cynthia had taken him into her mouth and swallowed every ounce of him. Freddie grabbed hold of her head and slow pumped her face until he was limp. Cynthia looked up at him with a devilish grin on her face.
“Now,” she began, “I can go to bed.” She stepped out of the shower and left Freddie alone.
Freddie rinsed off once more. He cut the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack. He quietly dried off before lying down next to Cynthia. He needed to sleep off everything he was graced with that night. Cynthia�
�s arms were wrapped around his waist. He instantly changed sleeping positions so she couldn’t spoon with him.
Freddie’s inner thoughts were tormenting him with the odd feeling of guilt. He started to think that screwing around with Cynthia was another means of hustling, his way of hustling. It never failed, though: after he did some unfaithful shit, Simone always popped up in his mind.
* * *
What I gotta feel bad for? Freddie tried to convince himself that he was doing what he was doing for him and his fiancée. The $2,500 Cynthia had promised him for tonight would come in handy for him and Simone. With that in mind, Freddie slipped out of bed and called Slug. Thirty minutes later, he was back on their side of town and it was back to business as usual.
Chapter Twenty-one
Four days later, Freddie drove the forty-five minutes from Goldsboro to Raleigh. It took him a few wrong turns before he found the high-rise Radisson Hotel downtown. It fit Gina’s style to a T; it was high class, trendy, and urban. The glass elevator floated up smoothly with a view of the large sparkling water fountain down on the lobby floor. Gina’s suite was located on the top floor.
Freddie was dipped in a brown, beige, and white linen outfit and a pair of brown and beige mid Gucci loafers. He had to admit to himself that he was nervous. With Gina, he never knew what to expect. She knew he was in a bind. And although he knew in his heart that she would look out, he knew she’d make him sweat it out, one way or the other.
Freddie got off the elevator, walked the hallway to her room, took a deep breath, then knocked on the door. He didn’t have long to wait before Gina opened the door.
“Hello, Freddie,” she said evenly, showing little emotion.
Freddie looked her up and down admiringly. Her dress was an auburn brown Versace with spaghetti straps. It had diamond-shaped cuts in the fabric on both sides that exposed the smooth mahogany tone of her firm hips. Her shoes, a pair of crystal-beaded mules with a modest heel, matched her dress. She didn’t look thirty-seven; she looked twenty-seven. Her natural hair, straightened and silky, framed her face in an asymmetrical cut.
“How you, ma?” Freddie asked. “Damn, you look good.”
He tried to kiss her but she turned away and replied, “I know. Let me get my purse and I’ll be ready to go.” She walked over to the nightstand and grabbed her small clutch bag.
“Ready? Where we goin’?” Freddie asked.
“Oh, you ain’t know? You takin’ me to dinner, a show, and whatever else I can think of. Just like you do Simone. You done spent enough of my money on her; now it’s time for you to spend some of her money on me,” she said as she glided by him and out the door, leaving him no choice but to follow.
When they reached the parking lot, she frowned and asked, “What is that?” She was referring to Freddie’s Accord.
“My car,” he replied, now feeling a little self-conscious about the late-model hooptie.
“Humph, we’ll take mine,” she said and tossed him the keys. Two rows away sat a platinum CLK 320 gleaming under the street lamp with milk-colored interior. Freddie opened the door for Gina, closed it, then walked around to the driver’s side. She unlocked his door and he got in. As soon as he started the car, the sounds of Colonel Abrams blared through the speakers. The club song took him back to Jersey as he put the car in drive and whipped out onto the main road like a typical “up north” driver.
Gina wasn’t playin’; Freddie was definitely taking her out. They went to a modern dance exhibition at the Durham Arts Theatre, then to a small and very exclusive jazz club, tucked away on the outskirts of Cary. Then they hit the high-class restaurant Zakia Blue’s in Raleigh. Freddie’s little stash was shrinking by the hour.
They walked in and were escorted to a cozy corner table overlooking the Raleigh skyline. Once they were seated, it wasn’t long before a waitress approached and cheerfully took their order.
“Yes, we’ll have the shrimp cocktail appetizer, then the grilled salmon and salad, and crème brûlée for dessert, with coffee.”
“Very good. And to drink?”
Gina smiled at Freddie. “Freddie, what do you suggest?”
Freddie could see it in her pores: she was loving draining his pockets. “Water,” he replied sarcastically.
Gina giggled. “He’s so silly. We’ll have the best red wine you have in the house. It goes well with fish.”
“Very good,” the waitress repeated, then left them to themselves. Gina had spent the entire evening evading his attempts to talk business, but Freddie thought the time had come to cut to the chase.
“So what’s goin’ on up top?”
“Later,” Gina answered, quickly sipping her water. “Right now I wanna know if you enjoyed the show.” She smiled at him over her glass.
“Them niggas dance like faggots,” he stated flatly.
Gina laughed. “I should’ve known you’d say that. I think it was sexy. You should learn how to dance like that.”
“Yeah, psss, picture that.”
“I am!”
The food arrived promptly and the waitress departed.
“Look, I know you’re enjoying yourself, draggin’ me all around town and drainin’ a nigga’s pockets, but you can at least tell me if the cop died, yo. That shit is driving me crazy. The other cat don’t matter, but the cop . . .” Freddie dropped his sentence.
“No. He didn’t die. Now can I enjoy my dinner?” Gina asked, cutting into her grilled salmon, taking a bite and trying to feed Freddie, too.
The look on her face made Freddie smile, then chuckle and accept the bite. “Ay, yo, word up, you somethin’ else!”
“Naw, you just can’t figure me out like you want to, that’s all.” She smirked, tasting her salad.
“What’s to figure out? I thought you said we knew each other for who we truly are.”
“No, I said I know you for who you truly are. I didn’t say anything about you knowing me. Eat your salmon, Freddie.” Gina sipped her wine, then asked, “So, when’s the wedding?”
Freddie shrugged his shoulders and continued to dress his salad.
“Can I come?” she smiled deviously. Freddie just looked at her like, “Stop playin’,” but she continued. “You should have a summer wedding. I love summer weddings. Have you set a date yet?”
“Naw.”
“I know you’re not having second thoughts, are you?”
Freddie wiped his mouth. “We’ll probably just wait until after the baby is born.” He grinned.
He could’ve slapped her in the face and it wouldn’t have hurt as much. Freddie knew Gina couldn’t have kids. He knew it was a cold way of letting her know, but if she wanted to play games, he decided not to play fair.
Gina averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes. “That’s . . . that’s nice. I’m happy for you.”
Now it was Freddie’s turn to control the flow of conversation. He laughed in her face. “No, you ain’t, so why is you lyin’? I can see it in your face. But it’s all good. Just know you ain’t the only one who can play games.”
“Games? You think I’m playin’ games wit’ you, Freddie? You think I drove five hundred miles to play a fuckin’ game?” she hissed, struggling to keep her voice low.
“Oh, what you call all this dinner and dance?” He mocked her voice: “‘How’d you enjoy the show?’ Smilin’ and shit, knowing you breakin’ a nigga pockets. That ain’t no game?” Freddie asked, matching her intensity.
“Nigga, you owe me at least this. After all the bullshit you put me through? You can’t even take me to a funky li’l show and a dinner? When have you ever taken me on a date, Freddie, huh? When? Where? But as soon as your black ass is in a bind, who do you call? And you gotta have a stank-ass attitude? That’s why I’m actin’ like this! ’Cause you actin’ like that!”
Shorty was right. He had never taken her out. It was either a hotel rendezvous or one of her spots: sex, maybe takeout and a movie. But he thought she was cool with their arrangement.
“Dig, yo, I’m just sayin’, I—”
She cut him off. “You said it, baby, and I hear you loud and clear.” She sipped her wine, wiped her mouth, and placed the napkin on her half-eaten plate, signaling that she was finished. “You wanna get down to business? Okay, let’s do business.”
Back at the hotel, Gina settled into the plush leather table chair that sat near the foot of the bed where Freddie sat. She crossed her thick, beautiful legs, dangling her mule off her right foot.
“Okay. Dante has a ten thousand dollar contract on your head. It’s really an open one, but Ak Kabir really the only cat on it. You know how Ak do, but nobody knows where you are, so you straight. And like I said, the cop didn’t die and he’s out of the hospital, so it’s definitely hot, but not as hot as shit could be if he had died.”
Freddie let it all sink in. He knew who Ak Kabir was: a straight murderer, dead ass. Dante was bad enough, but Ak Kabir? Going back to Jersey for any reason was out. But he was relieved that the cop had lived. It was still attempted murder, but that was damn sure better than murder one.
“You think there’s any way I can beat it?” Freddie inquired hopefully.
“Mannie? With a good lawyer, yeah. Don’t nobody care about another dead nigga. But the cop? Even wit’ a good lawyer you can’t beat that. And even if you could, what about Dante and Ak? Either you come back ready to go all out, or stay yo’ ass down here and hope them niggas catch cases or somethin’.”
“I need money for that,” Freddie announced, glad to finally get to the point.
She looked at him like, “And?”
“I got a spot in Goldsboro, matter of fact a few spots. But I need a connect. Wit’ the right connect I could sew shit up,” Freddie explained, sounding a lot like Slug.
“A connect?” Gina smirked. “All the country pussy down here and you gonna risk gettin’ trapped in some federal shit selling drugs? Fuckin’ wit’ cats you don’t even know?”
On the Run with Love Page 11
